


Khadgar's Very Strange Fantasy

by ausmac



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types
Genre: Bondage, M/M, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 11:52:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8055256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ausmac/pseuds/ausmac
Summary: The sort of thing a certain young mage does to gain a little sexual pleasure.





	Khadgar's Very Strange Fantasy

Khadgar realised after some time that being the Guardian put a nasty limit on a person’s sex life.  There just weren’t that many opportunities to form any kind of meaningful relationship, and dropping into a brothel somewhere and asking for a blow job just didn’t fit his image, or tastes for that matter.  And the fact was, the only person he really felt any sort of desire for was (a) male and (b) apparently so straight he was practically perpendicular…

So that left only one outlet for a healthy young man; self-arousal.  That required him to draw on his own imagination.  Since he wasn’t lacking in said imagination and it didn’t cost anything but time, he could let his fairly considerable creative impulses run wild.

So Khadgar’s very strange fantasy was this:

 

He is studying in the library at Karazhan when he feels the approach of a source of power.  His heart begins  to thud with recognition and trepidation.  Alone, surrounded by his books and his magic, still he knows the great risk he took by staying.  Running would be the best course, throwing up a portal and getting the hell out.  But he doesn’t, because he is stupid or foolish or perhaps naïve enough to think he can defeat this threat.

The Threat steps into the room and stops just inside the door, watching him.  Khadgar stands with his back to the wall next to his desk, hands up, the first swirls of arcane power forming at his will.

The familiar features change from watchful awareness to amusement.  “Are you going to strike at me, Khadgar?”

“Yes.”  His voice is hardly above a whisper, for this is not the man he knew, this is a Fel-stained abomination.

His hair, dark and shining, flows over his shoulders and down his chest.  The beard and moustache are untypically neat in the pale face.  He wears dark, gold-trimmed armour, the lion emblem of Stormwind on his chest transfigured into a green-eyed snarling beast – and the wearer’s own emerald gaze is locked on him, hypnotically enthralling.

He begins to walk across the room, unafraid but still watchful.  _Kill him now_ the voice of common sense whispers to Khadgar, but he can’t seem to remember the words that will blast Lothar to a corpse.  Lothar stops just within sword range and Khadgar knows he has already lost; Lothar can draw the sword hung in its scabbard on his back and thrust it through Khadgar before he can even think to encant.  A mage’s abilities are designed for distance; close up he is as helpless as a child against such physical power as a warrior possesses.

“You should have killed me when you had the chance,” he whispers, mirroring Khadgar’s own thoughts.  “Now I’ll claim you.  Now you’ll belong to Gul’dan, and to the Fel.”

But he doesn’t draw his sword.  Rather he moves forward, even closer, pushing Khadgar against the wall by brute strength.  He takes Khadgar’s wrists in his hands and forces them behind the mage’s back, bends his dark head and forces Khadgar’s mouth open with his in a punishingly forceful kiss.  Khadgar moans, closes his eyes, feeling the hot swirl of the tongue tasting his mouth as Lothar robs him of breath, stealing away any resistance. 

“Don’t move your arms,” a voice whispers and he doesn’t, even as the hands leave him and he suddenly senses something slide around his throat.  Then one of Lothar’s hands lifts one of his and his fingers feel the leather of the collar.  And when Lothar lets go of his hand, he keeps it there, feeling the collar as it warms to the touch of his skin.

“I own you, slave, to do with you as I wish. .  Do you understand, my little spellchucker?  ”  The old endearment stings and his eyes tear up but Lothar gives him no time to struggle or deny.  Those large, dangerous hands slide down to his waist, grip the hem of his pants and pull them down, so abruptly that he staggers.  The same hands twist him around so that his face bangs against the wall.

Lothar rests his chin on Khadgar’s shoulder.  “Loosen yourself if you can, because I won’t be easy on you.”

And Khadgar realises then what is about to happen and he starts to struggle but is held in place by a hand on the collar as it pulls back on his throat, pushing his head up, cutting into his air.  He can barely breath as he feels fingers slide into him from behind, twisting him open.  As untouched as he is in this act, he knows it will hurt unless he…there are few magics for this, except perhaps to activate a little of the water elemental he rarely has need of.  So that when Lothar finally breaches him, he finds Khadgar’s arse surprisingly moist.  And indeed he isn’t kind in the taking; he plunges in hard, holding Khadgar’s hip in one hand, the other still on the collar that moves when he thrusts and withdraws, tightening slowly as Lothar ruts inside Khadgar. 

There is pain, but there is also pleasure in the deep place inside him as the big cock strokes something that makes him gasp despite everything.  Or perhaps because of it – because of the hand controlling him on his collar, the hand squeezing and stroking his hip in a proprietary touch, and the big cock most of all that works its way inside him with so perfect a balance of pleasure and pain.

And when Lothar climaxes and shouts out his dominance, Khadgar senses the warm come filling him spreading the Fel through his bowels, up through his flesh and blood, into heart and lungs and mind so that when he turns at last he knows his own eyes are no less emerald bright than his masters….

 

“Khadgar, are you up there? Dammit…”  The sound of booted feet thundering up the stairs jerked Khadgar back to reality.  He hastily pulled his hand out from inside his pants and jerked his shirt down to cover the wet patch at his groin even as Lothar slid through the door.  “You forgot, didn’t you.  Damn it.”

“Forgot...I…”  Khadgar sucked in a deep breath and struggled up from the chair.  “What…did I forget?”

“Dinner.  My sister.  At bloody Stormwind!”  Lothar wrapped his arms across his chest and scowled.  “Really, where is your brain these days?”  Lothar paused and pointed.  “What’s that?”

“What?”  _Gods, did he see…_   And then he felt it.  He lifted a hand and felt the collar around his throat.  _What the…!  Quick, an  excuse…_   “Umm, oh, I found it.  In my things.  It was a gift from a friend.  In Dalaran.  Put it on, for old times’ sake.”

Lothar shrugged, obviously not understanding at all.  “Well, you have some odd friends.  Who gives someone a leather collar?”  He shook his head.  “Anyway, back on topic.  Are you coming to dinner or not?”

He agreed he was finally, and collected his cloak for travel, trying hard not to touch the collar but wondering how, in a moment of sexual fantasy, he’d magicked a collar around his throat.  And despite sanity and reason and all those mature-sounding terms, he left it on because he could, and because the feelings it generated, whenever he looked at or thought of Lothar, was more than reason enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I note that it was recently brought to my attention that Khadgar ingame does, indeed, wear a leather collar. My wonderful mage is kinky, which fills me with delight.


End file.
